


Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

by deacontent



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff, Freddie is a sweetheart, Friends to Lovers, I love him, I tried my best, M/M, deaky is an awkward mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 02:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16904163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deacontent/pseuds/deacontent
Summary: John finally realizes why he can never act properly around Freddie. He doesn't know what to do about it.





	1. Fever

The first time it happened, it was a sunless day, and the sky was blanketed with looming leaden clouds. John always enjoyed rainy days, but the forecast seemed to put a damper on their circumstances. The farmhouse they were temporarily inhabiting had an unfortunate tendency to leak as the rainwater seeped through the old wooden roof. 

While the other three were incessantly arguing, the bassist had scrambled throughout the entirety of the building, trying to find as many water-collecting vessels as he could to prevent the floorboards from being ruined. He was successful in finding a large, dented metal bucket, a few plastic cups, and two bowls. Despite all his efforts, the roof would perpetually be springing new leaks. John's hair became frizzier than ever due to the thick, humid air that permeated through the house. 

Brian, Freddie, and Roger were shouting over each other, words mixing into an incoherent mess like cold alphabet soup. The tension in the air was thick, and it only added to the humidity. John turned to them all to make a comment on the matter.

“Er—guys?” He tried, but his voice was merely a peep in the midst of an earthquake. Clearing his throat, he tried again. 

“Freddie.”

The loud argument hit a wall and the air stilled. John used this moment to breathe, relaxing now that it was quiet. He opened his mouth to speak, but his focus inadvertently drifted to Freddie's eyes. Then his nose. Then his mouth. Suddenly—and he didn't know why—it felt like someone had lit a fire in front of him. His skin started to tingle warmly. The way strands of dark hair clung to Freddie's damp face made John feel like time had stopped in its place. The sudden, unprecedented feeling had pulled all of the air out of his lungs. 

He had forgotten to close his mouth, and, like an overfilled kitchen cabinet, out tumbled a few jumbled words that tripped over one another as they fell from his lips, incoherent phrases that would make Shakespeare roll over in his grave. It sounded like he was reciting from a box of Scrabble tiles; a little linguistic calamity it was.

The mess of words hung in the still air, undisrupted by even the quietest sound. A little “ting” would sound every time a water drop fell into the metal bucket nearby, and that was the only sound that was heard, like it was a clock ticking down the seconds until eternity. It remained that way until the other three finally had let go of the boisterous laughter that was bubbling up in their chests like they were shaken soda bottles. Then did the air ripple like water. John's face went red, the color shadowing the few freckles that decorated his face from his nose to his ears. At least they weren't arguing anymore, right? That's all that mattered. His lips curled into a wavy, uncertain, timid smile and he muttered a gentle “Nevermind” that wavered beneath the sound of slowly-dying laughter. Brian and Roger had forgotten what they were arguing about and were imitating poor John, while Freddie was busy cooing at him ( _“I have seen more grace in a newborn deer!”_ ), much to his chagrin. Though he was embarrassed, John couldn't help but notice how much lighter the air felt. It pulled some weight off of his chest, but his face would not stop burning. Freddie pinched his cheek fondly. His face grew hotter.

"That was far too adorable, dear," Freddie had managed through little fits of giggles that showered John with warmth. With a little ruffle of the bassist's curly hair, Freddie has successfully made John feel like a mess. When Freddie's back turned for the slightest moment, John used that as a good opportunity to disappear to his cold room downstairs.

The basement was drafty and it took three blankets and a comforter to keep John from trembling. At least it was quiet, and he finally had an opportunity to calm down. It was difficult, though. Although his face wasn't flushed anymore and he was breathing easily, he dwelled on his lack of social skills as if it were the worst regret of his life, the moment replaying over and over in his head. At least he was alone...

Until he wasn't. Freddie, almost on cue, warned John of his presence via a gentle knock at the doorway (that didn't stop him from flinching, however) and peeped his head inside. John gave him a simple raise of the eyebrows, a gesture that allowed him an entrance, and Freddie did so with a gentle smile. The sound of Brian and Roger's laughter echoed down the stairs. John pulled his blankets up to his face. 

"What are you doing down here all on your lonesome?" Freddie asked in his characteristically playful manner and sat on the small bed.

"I didn't feel like taking a shower," he said, a bit of a smile in his voice. It was partly true; the thunderstorm wasn't going to stop anytime soon, so the ceiling was just going to keep leaking. Freddie chuckled, and the sound made John's heart ache.

"It would probably be in your best interest to take one, though. You need it."

John scoffed and nudged him with his foot, offended, and Freddie laughed with such mirth that it filled the room. The bassist pulled the covers even farther up to hide his face. 

"I'm just teasing you, dear." Freddie patted John's knee from above the covers, and it made his heart start to crawl up his throat. Freddie was beautiful, and when he started unpacking each of the man's features like they were Christmas presents, realization hit him like a train. This wasn't just an odd mood he was in that day. In each passing moment with Freddie's hand rested on his knee, the feeling of panic started burning through his entire body. All he wanted to do was reach up and hug him, and it was terrifying. Freddie frowned at the lack of response and the odd look in his friend's eye.

"Are you unwell?" Delicately, he reached forward and placed the back of his hand on John's forehead. The touch brought even more heat to his face, and he closed his eyes with a soft sigh. He felt like he was going to combust.

"You have a fever, darling," Freddie diagnosed. He moved his hand from John's forehead to his hair, and pushed it back and out of his face. Every movement he made was just so caring and it made John feel like his chest was burning. He finally decided to open his eyes and, though he was expecting otherwise, Freddie was still there. The dim, flickering lightbulb didn't illuminate the room as much as Freddie did. He adored being in the presence of him, but the feeling mingled with the terrible fear of it all. Freddie's countenance was so gentle and calming, and it made John feel conflicted as to whether he felt at ease or panicked. Or both. Was that possible? He didn't know. His skin felt like it was buzzing, and Freddie was _still playing with his hair._ He inhaled sharply and went to say something, but Freddie luckily beat him to it.

"I would make you some soup, but you used all the bowls to catch the rain," he said fondly, a bit of a chuckle following the statement. John couldn't help but smile at him, albiet a bit nervously, but he felt some tension leave his body. Freddie always seemed to make everything better, even when John was terrified out of his mind. 

"It's alright," John said, though it felt a bit strange to use his voice again. "You don't have to babysit me."

"Oh hush." Freddie ruffled John's already messy hair and pulled his hand back. John missed the feeling already. "We can't have our Deaky all miserable now, can we? I'll go fetch you some water."

John didn't protest. Freddie stood up and, without any perceptible hesitation, gave his friend a little peck on the forehead, and left. John waited until he was out of sight to cover his face with a pillow. He was going to have to deal with this all day.


	2. Pre-Performance Jitters

The second time it happened, the group was in the dressing room, getting ready for the rapidly approaching concert they were giving that night. There was a heavy, anxious ambience settling in the air like the thick, looming clouds from the other day, mostly due to Freddie's ever present nervous energy. He was doing rather excessive vocal warm-ups and cursing himself under his breath whenever he was even the slightest bit flat. Brian was turning the room upside down in search of his shoes (which Roger had hid behind a chair) and mumbling incoherently to himself, while Roger was—a bit vexatiously—patting the table to the beat of Keep Yourself Alive. It rubbed off on John the most, absorbing Freddie's anxious tenor like a sponge. He attempted to do his makeup for the night, but his shaking fingers threatened blindness via eyeliner, so he gave up with an exasperated sigh and set it down. He looked up at the clock. Twenty minutes. He had time, but his chest still felt heavy. He needed to relax, but all he wanted to do was get up and start pacing laps around the room, although it would most definitely get in the way of Brian's treasure hunt for his hidden shoes. When he had settled back in his seat, Freddie had caught his eye in the mirror and approached him, resting his hands on his shoulders. John felt an abrupt, almost electric shock at the touch. It didn't help his nerves one bit.

“Unfinished eyeliner? That's a fashion statement if I've ever seen one, love. I might as well pack up and go home!” Freddie teased, a fond smile playing on his lips as he observed John in the mirror. John looked back at him, too, though the reflection of Brian passing by hurriedly was quite distracting. Freddie met John's eyes with an affectionate smile, and _lord,_ was he beautiful. Ever since that one rainy day, he had never left John's mind, like a pleasant little tune replaying itself over and over in his head. Freddie had treated him like a sick child that day, hardly ever leaving his side unless it were necessary to get him something. John sincerely adored it. No one had ever made him feel so at ease, yet so nervous at the same time. He was still trying to get his bearings on being a little less socially inept around his bandmate, but was proud to admit that he had succeeded in having a full conversation with Freddie in which he had only stuttered a total of six times (and yes, he kept count). Six may seem like a lot, but it was a drastic improvement for him. He had celebrated his successes by treating himself to tea which he, ironically, spilled all over himself when Freddie had entered the room and asked where the TV remote was without announcing his presence first. As noted before, he still had some work to do. John wondered if anyone suspected his crush. To him, it felt dreadfully obvious.

“Would you like me to finish it for you?” Freddie offered after the brief period of companionable silence, cutting off John's thoughts. He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, then understood.

“Oh—yes, if you wouldn't mind,” he accepted with an abrupt nod. Freddie sat in a chair adjacent to him, to which John swiveled in his chair to face him. “I'm not very good at makeup.”

“I don't disagree with you, dear, but you make it work.” Freddie smiled, picked up the opened eyeliner pencil and got to work. John didn't know if he should respond to the insult or the compliment. He didn't have much time to think about it, because as soon as Freddie started holding his face, his mind shut off.

“I try,” he decided to say instead, closing his eyes to avoid going blind. He didn't even need to have his eyes open to know Freddie was smiling. Gentle silence fell between them, and John could feel Freddie's breath hitting his face. His skin grew warm. Tentatively, John opened one of his eyes, the one Freddie wasn't working on. He was immediately met with a laugh from the other man, and it made a wave of excitement wash over his body. John loved making Freddie laugh. It could make his heart warm up even on the coldest day.

“Oh stop it, you,” Freddie had said through giggles, gently nudging John's foot with his own and turning back to the task at hand. The smile never left his face. John couldn't stop the happy buzzing feeling that rose under his skin. He felt like he could do anything.

Sooner rather than later, Freddie had finished, pulling back his chair to admire his work. He seemed rather proud of himself, John noted.

“Beautiful!” He had announced, reaching to adjust a piece of John's hair. He absentmindedly leaned into the touch, which made Freddie linger for just a bit longer.

“Me or the makeup?”

“I have to choose?” Freddie pouted, the pout promptly turning into a smile. He ruffled John's hair. “You, silly. Now let's get going. Don't want to keep them all waiting for us, do we?”

John had an unyielding urge to kiss Freddie, but he pushed that thought as far away as he could. Instead, he settled on a smile and a nod, coming off a bit more nervous than intended, but Freddie didn't seem to notice. John would deal with his feelings later. He had a concert on his plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya!! here's another cute little drabble for you guys. if you have any other possible scenarios that you think would be cute between these two, please suggest them! :')


	3. Nightmare

The third time it happened, John had found himself awake at two thirty-four in the morning due to an unpleasant nightmare. He had cowered under the covers in his dusty little room for a while, peeking out from under his excessive amount of blankets to look at the (rather annoying) clock every minute or so. The first time he checked, it was two thirty-four. Then two thirty-six. Then two thirty-nine. The slow passing of time just seemed to add to his paranoia. Every little “tick” from the clock on the wall made John feel like his skin was crawling. When he was trembling to the point where he felt like he could faint, he eventually came to the conclusion that he wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon and it was better to find some way to calm his nerves before he tried to. The endless abyss that was outside of his doorway made it very difficult for him to accept that fact.

Swallowing his fears of the harmless shadows cast on his walls, he had somehow gathered what was left of his courage to get up and escape to the kitchen. The house was far more than quiet; John could have sworn that the loudest thing he could hear was his blood pumping in his ears, not even second to the creaking floorboards underneath his feet. Though it was dark (and John's vision in this lighting wasn't the best it could have been), he had finally found his way to the kitchen, which was a lot less eerie than his cold room. He allowed himself to relax a bit. The walls were just barely illuminated by the moonlight flooding in through the window, but it was enough for him to actually see what he was doing. It was surely a step up from his blind journey from his bedroom. After brief contemplation, John decided to make himself a cup of tea. Maybe it would help him get back to sleep, if he didn't spill it on himself again.

As John waited for the water to boil on the small stovetop, he hummed quietly to himself. He hated the silence more than he hated his singing, though it took some contemplation for him to come to that conclusion. He was so occupied with his thoughts and the jaunty little tune he was humming that he nearly didn't hear the gentle, considerate knock at the doorway. John didn't jump this time when he looked in the direction of the sound. Freddie must have feared he was going to cause John to make a mess again if he wasn't too careful.

“What are you doing up at this ungodly hour?” He inquired softly, approaching his friend. Freddie's hair stood up in twenty different directions, and his shirt was wrinkled and misplaced from sleep. Freddie seemed to look good in everything, even in an old t-shirt and boxers, and it gave the impression that he had put together the outfit deliberately. John didn't find it fair. He grew suddenly self conscious of his own appearance and pulled the hem of his sweatshirt down to cover the small amount of his stomach that was showing.

“I could ask you the same question,” John responded, his voice a bit gravelly as he hadn't used it up until that point. Freddie raised an eyebrow inquisitively. John turned to the now boiling water and poured some of it into a mug, avoiding his friend's eyes. Freddie was always able to make him cave.

“Nightmare,” John admitted stiffly. The tea was steeping, but he was trying to make himself seem busy by stirring it. He felt silly saying it out loud, like a little child, but Freddie didn't think it was at all silly of him. In fact, as a comforting gesture, he brushed John's hair out of his face. It sent a few cold sparks down his spine.

“Poor thing,” Freddie said gently. He was likely the most loving and understanding person John had ever met, and it made him want to melt into the floor. He was still stroking his hair. “Would you like to talk about it, darling?”

John shook his head. He didn't want to sour this moment. His tea was merely an afterthought in the back of his mind, and he stopped absentmindedly stirring the mug to look up at Freddie. He had the most careful eyes, like every movement they made was thoroughly planned out. He never seemed awkward or flustered. Every movement he made and every word he said was so deliberate and purposeful. John could hardly greet anyone without stuttering or tripping over his words, and his motions were often shaky and clumsy. Freddie felt so much ease around everyone. John was having trouble acting like a normal person when he was merely in his presence. In juxtaposition, they were as different as night and day. Quite frankly, John didn't care. Sure, it made everything much harder for him, but Freddie was Freddie. And that was what was magical about him. He didn't mind being the moon when Freddie was the sun.

Freddie scanned John's face for a few moments before pulling him into his arms. John's reaction time was painfully slow, and he didn't quite comprehend what had happened for what felt like minutes. But as soon as he did realize how he got from point A to point B, he felt himself entirely relax against Freddie. It felt like he was lighter than the air. If Freddie let go of him, he would surely be floating. But he didn't. John felt like there was absolutely nothing bad in the world. He felt a bit silly, he admitted to himself, for being so affected by a simple gesture that probably meant nothing to the other man. But to him, it meant the world. It had been a while since he'd had that giddy childlike feeling.

“Would you like to spend the rest of the night with me?” Freddie broke the silence after a while, brushing John's hair behind his ear. The hair on the back of John's neck stood up at the touch. “I've got a telly in my room. There's bound to be something good on.”

“Mhmm,” John nodded eagerly, trying to pull himself closer to Freddie. There wasn't much space to fill, but that didn't stop him from squeezing him like his heart was going to burst. He felt Freddie smile.

“What are we waiting for then?” He loosened his embrace with John, who reluctantly pulled himself away. Freddie offered him a small smile, to which he offered him an even brighter one in return. 

“Come on,” Freddie urged, taking John's hand and pulling him towards the door. On his way out he grabbed his—now rather cold—mug of tea and allowed himself to be pulled along with Freddie. He had never been so excited to watch TV in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all!! please give me suggestions on future chapters if you'd like! thank you :')


	4. Good Morning

The fourth time it happened, John had awoken comfortably tucked under Freddie's arm, his messy hair taking up most of his already blurry vision. It took him quite a bit of time to fully gain consciousness, but when he finally realized where he was, it took a lot of his willpower not to jump. He couldn't quite remember how he got here, and why their legs were a tangled mess beneath them. He recounted the events of the night before.

John had woken up at an ungodly hour, went to the kitchen to make some tea, and was greeted by Freddie. They had watched TV together after that. That was right. John remembered because they had spent minutes flipping through the stations and finally settled on a soap opera in a language that neither of them spoke. Freddie made it a point to try to discern what was happening in the show, and John would occasionally give his two cents on what he thought the plot was. Freddie was quite invested in the show, while John was quite invested in him. 

John remembered, at some point, Freddie had insisted, “You know I don't bite, dear,” as John was rather far from him on the other side of the bed. He, albeit a bit reluctantly, had scooted over just a little closer to Freddie, who scoffed and pulled him over by the waist. One thing lead to another and they were cuddling, with Freddie's hand brushing through John's long hair. John must have been the first to fall asleep.

John's panic finally settled into relief and he relaxed in Freddie's warm arms. Good things can come from nightmares, he decided. He didn't want to move, but the bleary clock on the wall was urging him to get up before the hours of the morning blended into the afternoon. John stretched and untangled his limbs from Freddie's, but as he did, Freddie stirred from his sleep. John stopped moving, but it didn't do much to stop Freddie from waking up.

“Leaving me all alone, dear? Already?” Freddie asked, voice almost an octave lower than it usually was. John looked up at Freddie, who was smiling at him fondly. His heart hurt.

“It's nearly afternoon,” John justified, his arm absentmindedly finding its way around Freddie's waist. Freddie observed him with absolute adoration, his fingers threading through John's hair again. He felt like he couldn't move even if he tried, like his body was ten times heavier. Freddie wasn't complaining about that in the slightest.

“What about it?”

John could hardly control the overwhelming feeling of God knows what that was crawling up his throat. He wanted to lay there forever, but he also felt a sense of panic that was trying to get him to get out like there were alarms blaring in his head. He decided to sit up, much to Freddie's dismay. Maybe he just needed some fresh air.

“ _You_ can go back to sleep. I'm getting myself some breakfast.” John found his way out of the sea of covers and made his way out the doorway, not before being met with Freddie half-heartedly throwing a pillow at him. John rolled his eyes.

When John had arrived to the kitchen, Brian and Roger were already there, nudging one another. They were gently bickering about something, and John assumed it was about who was going to take the last slice of bread, which was laying out on the counter in front of them. He shook his head to himself and reached for one of the boxes of tea, which was on a shelf he could just barely reach. It took him a few minutes of preparing the kettle with water when he noticed Brian and Roger's bickering had turned into playful whispers and giggles. John furrowed his eyebrows and turned to the pair. They were looking at him.

“Now what are you two creasing up about?” He asked, feeling a bit self conscious. He fixed the hem of his sweatshirt.

“Had a good night last night, didn't'ya?” Roger commented playfully. He was met with a gentle punch in the arm from Brian, who couldn't help but smile either. John's face grew suddenly warm, but it felt like all the heat drained from his body at the same time. 

“You're being ridiculous, you two,” he had managed, turning back to the kettle. The water wasn't ready yet. John tried to make himself seem busy nonetheless.

“So what did you two do, hmm?” Roger pressed further, which made John's ears feel like they were burning. Something about the situation made him feel sick. It felt like his chest was caving in on him and he couldn't bare it. Brian didn't do anything to stop Roger this time. “I never knew that John Richard Deacon, the quietest person I've ever met, would ever be the type to——”

“To what, dear?” Freddie interrupted with his usual charming air, entering the kitchen with his hair as messy and ridiculous looking as ever. John felt himself relax in his presence. Relief flooded from his chest all the way to the tips of his fingers, and he regained some feeling in his legs. The water was finally boiling. “You must have never had a bit of a cuddle before. No wonder you're so cranky all the time.” 

Brian laughed at that, and Roger responded by throwing his spoon at him. Freddie chuckled to himself at the little tiff he caused and ruffled John's already unkempt hair. Freddie always made him feel safe.

“I'm making you some tea,” John said rather quietly, his voice wavering under the noise of Roger's whining. Freddie gave him a bright smile that put the sun to shame.

“Thank you, darling. Have you eaten?”

John shook his head, turning to the two mugs he had set out and pouring an equal amount of water into the both of them. “I'm afraid Brian's eaten all the toast.”

“Is that what Roger is complaining about?” Freddie chuckled and brushed John's hair behind his ear. “No wonder he's in such a mood this morning.”

“Must be.” John picked up the nicer mug and held it out to Freddie, who took it with a grateful smile. “Be careful, it's very hot.”

“Okay, _mother_ ,” Freddie teased, nudging John's ankle with his foot. “I'm not nearly as clumsy as you, love.”

Freddie was right. John was awfully graceless, especially when Freddie was there to witness it. It made John's face warm up again. He waited for Freddie to scuttle off and act as a mediator between the two bickerers, as he normally would, but he stood in place, like he was expecting something. John sighed inwardly. Freddie was the type of person to stay right at your side until he saw you smile, but John didn't quite feel like smiling at the moment. He wasn't ready for the relentless teasing he was going to get from Roger over the next thousand years.

“You're awfully quiet this morning,” Freddie observed. He seemed a bit worried, but the smile never left his face. How could he constantly be such a ray of sunshine? Did it get tiring? John didn't know, but thinking about it made his heart ache. All he wanted to do was just jump into his arms again. Freddie was too lovely for his own good.

“Not much of a morning person, 'suppose,” John explained away with a shrug. Freddie wasn't having that; he always seemed to see right through him.

“Don't even _try_ that on me, darling. You act like I don't see you every day of my life.”

John really didn't want to talk about it, but Freddie was terribly persistent. He couldn't really complain; he had good intentions. This was just one of the few times Freddie _wasn't_ going to be able to stop John from being stubborn. He seemed to come to terms with that, dropping the prying.

“If it's about Roger, don't let him get to you. He's merely a four year-old in a twenty-three year-old's body. He has no business making fun of you when he dresses the way he does.”

That comment made John laugh a little more than he anticipated, and he was met with a little pinch of his cheek provided by Freddie. He finally got what he wanted. Suddenly, the entire weight of the world had been lifted off of John's shoulders. He could breathe easily again.

“I suppose you're right,” he had managed through a fit of giggles. Freddie was looking at him like he was the eighth wonder of the world. “Thank you, Freddie.”

“Nonsense. There's no need to thank me.” Freddie smiled genuinely at him, which caused a bubbling feeling to rise in John's chest. In one smooth motion Freddie gave John a chaste peck on the cheek and was on his way to hover between Roger and Brian, who were still arguing over the last slice of bread. John nearly dropped his mug again. He really needed to sit down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya guys! back with another chapter sooner than i expected. i've proofread this one over and over and i'm not sure how i feel about it. let me know what you think!


	5. Dr. Mercury

The fifth time it happened, the group had just performed their last show of the tour. John was still caught up in the adrenaline of it all, and the exhaustion didn't quite hit for a while. He and the rest of the band were ushered backstage and his bass was taken by who he could only assume was a crew member, yet the feeling of the weight leaving his shoulders didn't register until much later. When they were brought back to their dressing room, however, John immediately felt his body grow ten times heavier when he sat down in a rather uncomfortable wooden chair. He was absolutely exhausted.

Roger was excitedly rambling about a rumor of “free pastries backstage” to a tired-looking Brian, who, despite his ever perceptible exhaustion, agreed to follow him in search of the free food. John assumed he gave in just so Roger wouldn't get lost, as that was Brian's excuse for doing so, but part of him noticed the fond look in Brian's eyes as Roger excitedly pulled him out of the dressing room. There was distinct chatter from one of the stage crew members explaining something to Freddie, but John wasn't listening. He probably couldn't even if he wanted to. He heard Freddie chuckling from the opposite side of the room and his head lulled back, resting on the hard wooden backing of the chair. It was uncomfortable, but John didn't care.

John heard the door latch closed and the gentle chatter that was present before died into silence. All John could hear was the buzzing of the lights. Freddie sighed softly and approached him.

“Is all that dancing finally catching up to you?” Freddie asked softly, a bit of amusement in his warm voice. John let his eyes drift open on their own, and Freddie was hovering over him, brushing little strands of John's hair out of his face. Even after a highly demanding performance, Freddie never seemed to be tired. John didn't know how he could manage.

“Indeed,” John confirmed, his voice quiet as it would take far more energy than he had to speak up. Truthfully, he didn't need to say anything at all. Freddie was so good at understanding John that all he had to do was look at him, and he'd know. It was slightly unnerving to him sometimes. After all, there _was_ something John was hiding from him. There was no telling if Freddie understood him enough to know it yet or not. The thought caused a dull, anxious pain in his stomach.

“It's worth it, though. The crowd adores it,” Freddie said dotingly. “I do too.” John's lips pulled up at the corners, a tired little smile forming on his face. He was too tired to be flustered, but he did feel a little jump in his chest when Freddie ran his fingers through John's hair.

Freddie's gaze shifted from John's eyes down to his hands—which were resting in his lap—and his adoring smile turned into a concerned frown. “You're bleeding, darling,” he said rather worriedly, crouching down in front of John and picking up his left hand. John, though it took some energy, pulled his head forward to see the injury. Freddie was right; he was bleeding. He didn't even feel it until it was pointed out to him, and even then he only felt a dull throb along the tips of his fingers. The thick bass strings must have worn down his skin as they were performing. John looked up from his hand to Freddie, who met his gaze at the same time. “Let me fix you up, dear.”

In no way was John going to argue with the offer. He was far too tired to get up and walk all the way to the little first aid kit that was hanging on the opposite wall, and on top of that, he kind of liked it when Freddie would take care of him. In no way was he going to admit that, though. So he just sat in place as Freddie made the arduous-looking journey to the first aid kit and back, crouching again in front of John and opening the little red box. Upon sifting through its contents, Freddie was successful in finding four band-aids and an alcohol wipe.

“Does it hurt, dear?” Freddie asked as he opened the alcohol wipe. John shook his head. If it were any other occasion, he'd be worrying about the state of his bass strings, but he had no energy to worry at the moment. Freddie began to clean John's hand. It stung. John didn't care.

“Hopefully it heals soon,” Freddie commented softly, now moving onto the band-aids. He put one on each of John's fingers, being awfully delicate despite the fact that John could hardly feel it. This wasn't the first time this had happened; one time it had happened while they were recording their first album, and it had gotten so bad that he needed to replace his bass strings. He hadn't quite assimilated into the band at the time, and he was still a bit of an outsider despite the rest of the band's attempts to make him feel more comfortable. The day he bled all over his bass was probably one of the most mortifying days of his life, not because of the blood, but because of the embarrassment of it all. Freddie, Roger, and Brian were all extremely worried about him and fixed him up, but John had kept apologizing and apologizing over something that wasn't even his fault. John winced at the memory and shook it out of his head.

“There,” Freddie said, placing the last band-aid on John's index finger. He smiled at John, who felt himself smile back involuntarily. “Do you want me to kiss them better?”

John chuckled, looking at his hand and stretching his fingers before looking back to Freddie. Freddie seemed satisfied that he was able to get a laugh out of him. “I hardly believe that's standard medical procedure.”

“Trust me. I'm a seasoned professional.” Freddie raised his eyebrows at John. John found himself to suddenly be rather giggly, his eyes forming little crescent moons as they did whenever he smiled really big. He was either delusional or _extremely_ tired. Whatever it was, Freddie seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit. He placed a little peck on each of John's bandaged fingers, and with each one, John's giggling grew. His giggling started to die down, and Freddie squeezed his hand fondly.

“Maybe it does work,” John said after a while. His laughter had faded and it left his head feeling rather dizzy.

“I told you!” Freddie chuckled, standing up from his crouched position. John looked up at him, and they were left in silence for just a few moments.

“You know… My head is starting to hurt as well.” The words had spilled out of John's mouth, and he hadn't even noticed they had left his mind until he saw Freddie's subtle, yet startled reaction. For once, John had caught Freddie off guard. It was always the other way around. Seeing the way _his_ words could affect _Freddie_ of all people gave him more confidence than he thought he could ever have. John had never been a flirt. Thank God he was tired out of his mind, otherwise he would never have managed to say such a thing.

“Well, that's odd,” Freddie managed after a few seconds, finally regaining his composure. “Where does it hurt?”

John pointed to his forehead. Freddie pushed his hair back and placed a gentle, lingering kiss where John had directed him to, and John could hardly hold back from grinning. He was having way too much fun with this.

“It's strange—my cheek is starting to hurt as well,” John said matter-of-factly, pointing just below his right cheekbone. “Right here.”

Freddie smiled knowingly and, again, placed another kiss where John had directed him to. Excitement started to bubble up in John's chest, but he appeared as nonchalant as he could. Freddie's excitement, however, was very poorly masked. It just gave John even more confidence.

“Anywhere else, darling?” Freddie asked rather eagerly. His behavior resembled a puppy's, John noted. John pretended to ponder for a moment.

“As a matter of fact… There is.” John raised his eyebrows. “I bumped my microphone earlier when I was trying to sing. My mouth feels a bit sore. Could you…?”

“Of course,” Freddie breathed, nodding quickly. It was like they completely exchanged personalities. Freddie seemed frozen in place, not quite sure how to proceed without seeming absolutely graceless. John rolled his eyes affectionately. Taking matters into his own hands (quite literally), he grabbed onto Freddie's ridiculous-looking suspenders and pulled him forward. Freddie made a little noise of surprise, but it was quickly muted by John's lips. Freddie relaxed after a moment or so, his hands clumsily finding their way to John's shoulders. John had successfully reversed Freddie's suave and composed personality, and it made him feel victorious. He smiled a little into the kiss and, nearly as soon as it began, pulled away. Freddie's face was still in close proximity, and their noses were touching. John's chest felt like it was swelling.

“Thank you, Doctor Mercury.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again i am back with another chapter much sooner than i anticipated lol!!! this one was probably my favorite to write. let me know what you guys think!!


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